possessions

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One version of a simple fix.

July 30, 2009 | 2 comments

simplefix0709_1
Remember one time you were truly and absolutely and completely, even unabashedly, stupid about your possessions.  Remember what you were stupid about.  Remember your life without that piece of material and how it still works, how you still sleep and poop and laugh, how maybe even your life is better now.

Your pretty red Ford Focus in 2003: You parked at the bottom of parking lots away from other cars that might ding it, only to be in it when an SUV totaled it.  That chocolate stain was meaningless forever then.

That new cell phone in late 2007: How you worried about scratching the screens and getting lint in them?  How it got dropped from a bicycle multiple times and how it’s cracked in half at this minute, with bits of its guts spilled out now?  How you have a new phone that will also hit the street a few times in  your time with it.

Each new camera: How you lose photo opportunities for the sake of the pretty screen’s life.

That new bike in 2006: How you worried about it’s pretty looks and the integrated headset, only to crash the damned thing in 2009 anyway.

That cool mug you got when you finished your Master’s Degree, that you hand-washed to preserve its Thoreau quotation, only to find it broken from when someone dropped the box it was in helping you move.

simplefix0709_2
Because, if  you’re like me, you forget how stuff is just shit that will leave you one day and that  you will, in fact, continue to live a fun life without.  And, if you’re like me, you might need to remind yourself in ways that are relevant to your life, i.e., times when a piece of plastic or metal or glass or etc. drove you crazy, only to disappear one day anyway. When someone says, Oh, it’s just stuff, man, don’t worry so much, that is not helpful. Well, I want to say, You worry about your car and your shoes and your X, so go learn yourself some peace before you get up in my face with your pseudo-Zen routine.

I will not feed you such puppycock today.  Instead, I will suggest to you, if you’re like me, that you think about times you were stupid, not times someone else (like me) was stupid.

Unless you’ve never been stupid about possessions and have never been possessed by them, owned by what you own or been the tool of your tools, in which case, you should please teach me your secret.

(More on PERFECTIONISM from 2005.)

[Pictured simple fix: A $5 bracket from Planet Bike for getting your rear bike light onto your rack. It's one of the best bike gadgets I've ever seen. Ever.  If there were a simple fix like this for materialism, well, wow.  Wow.]

Everything is a slipping seatpost.

July 29, 2009 | 9 comments

mapcup0709
I’ve fallen into the rut of letting my worrying about all my shiny possessions get the best of me again. My new bike’s seatpost slips. After messing with the quick-release and grease and etc., I am nearly positive it is because the seatpost collar is a poor design that doesn’t work.  Not the end of the world, and I wanted to replace that quick-release anyway, having had my seat stolen before.

Friday: I call the bike shop, and when they offer to order me one, I say, No thanks, I’ll be in later to get something anyway. But I never make it because I get mad at the idea of crushing my frame (as if steel is not stronger than that $5 part or as if I’m even that strong!). My phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, and I throw it. Hard. It explodes on the floor, and I almost have a melt-down because of my shiny shit. I mean, I’m fucking shaking, as ashamed as I am to admit it.

Then the messenger bag that I had sent away for a warranty repair (which was itself a replacement for a very very defective bag and on which I have spent $55 in shipping to date) came back un-fixed, after they told me they fixed it. I was even madder. Tried to call them to yell at them (which I never do), but they were not there even though they were supposed to be.  So I sent them an email at the end of business Friday. An angry email.  When I left to go to dinner at Golden West, though, I felt better. Shit is shit, and fuck it all, I thought. It felt fantastic.  I didn’t give a fuck or a shit or a hill of fucking beans about anything material and ate spicy food and washed it down with Pabst and had a very relaxing weekend.

Then I let my seatpost woes ruin my week again. Have I ordered a new collar yet? No. That would make sense. Can I plainly see that I have not, in fact, wrecked my frame? Yes. Am I losing my fucking mind over this? Possibly. I mean, I should cut myself some slack. I did go three months off of a bike, and my three bigger injuries (hand, wrist, foot) bother me regularly when I cycle. But still. I am getting distracted at work reading about slipping seatposts on forums at lunchtime, instead of my favorite lunchbreak activity (taking off my shoes and reading for an hour).

Perhaps the solution is to burn all my shit? Heh heh heh. Tempting.

On the bright side, I’ll get a new seatpost collar, it will probably work, and all will be well on that front. My new phone comes today, and I was due for a new one anyway (and it was free). And the company in question responded to my pissy email with a, Pick whatever bag you want, and it’s yours, response.

And I’m going to Washington DC to see Tori Amos this weekend, an early birthday present from my sweet wife.  A long weekend in DC and then a little shindig Sunday for my Dad’s 60th birthday.  Not bad.  A normal person would be excited about this and not worried about a piece of fucking metal.

Oh, and I turn 30 four weeks from Sunday.  That, I’m not happy about.  I wanna skip this decade and just turn 40 — it seems like more fun.  I’m afraid my 30s are going to be another decade of doing stupid shit and worrying about stupid shit and so missing out on awesome shit like my 20s have totally and completely been.

But, I guess,  you never know.

Always new stuff.

January 6, 2009 | 7 comments

potty0109
I guess it’s sometimes a post-holiday or back-to-school thing, where you have a bunch of new stuff all at once.  Maybe I just don’t shop a lot.  I don’t know.  But I rode to work this morning with a new Thermos of coffee in my backpack with my new planner, a new book, wearing a new vest, new socks, new gloves and being kept dry by new fenders.  The only thing I bought was the planner and the book, and those were to fill voids left by an old planner and all the books I’ve already read.  I feel spoiled somehow, like I don’t have the right to be toting around all this shiny new shit that I didn’t buy but instead just took out of a gift box.  The people I care about do give me some wonderful presents.  So maybe I am spoiled in a way.

And of course having a bunch of new stuff makes a lot of people (myself included) re-examine their relationship to material possessions.  I really love my new gloves and fenders and Thermos, but it’s the cycling in winter weather and not dropping five bucks a day to have good coffee at work thing that I really like.  I suppose that’s a healthy relationship to gear, right?  Using it?

I do have the tendency to pet my things though and often get very upset when a new scratch joins the dozens of others on my bike or when dust gets under the screen cover of my camera.  Then I think about my bike and not riding and my camera and not taking pictures.  Then, as Tyler Durden would say, the things I own end up owning me.

I’ve always struggled to have a healthy relationship to possessions, my body, my health.  You can’t just ignore your pains or bike maintenance, but you can’t get attached to them, either.  Tricky, I tell you.  Tricky.

Photo Friday: Meditation.